![](http://blogs.westword.com/backbeat/ogdenstsouth_003.jpg)
A Cowboy, his friend the Robot, and the Pope are arguing about Vatican
II in Karaoke bar in a strip mall in Nevada. Suddenly, two big
scary-looking guys burst in the room and head straight for the Robot,
who accesses his memory of extensive gambling debts, and executes
panic.exe, spinning his head and waving his rubbery robot arms wildly
around. The big guys approach the table as the cowboy, realizing the
Robot is a hapless Jets fan, reaches for his six-shooter. It looks
bad. But the Pope rises to his full height with great dignity, and bids
the men welcome. Cowed by the Pope, the big guys sit down uncertainly,
their fingers on triggers, the Robot's fan squeaking, the Cowboy's
steely eyes drilling into their faces with deadly scrutiny. The air is
still and it is hot, and menthol smoke hangs like a curtain.
Then
some bridesmaids go onstage and start singing Daft Punk's "Get Lucky."
"Oh, I love this song," says the Pope. "Let us all listen together
awhile," says the Pope, smiling gently, tapping his shoe, making
everyone hold hands.
The Angst-Jöken.
1 Comments:
That's...beautiful.
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